Our Little Secret
by mootifulru
Summary: Draco and Hermione thought once would be enough. Will they be able to resist each other? Follow-up fic, comes after Bad Things.
1. Chapter 1

Hi, Just a little note to say if you haven't read Bad Things then I would suggest you read that first. Bad Things was my first fic, this is a follow-up fic thats going to be longer and in more detail. There _will_ be smut in later chapters so if you don't like smut, I wouldn't bother. Hope you like it. R&R :)

Disclaimer: I own none of this.

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**Draco**

I'm waking up from a fantastic dream. I had Granger in my bed and she was doing things to me that I never would have dreamed her capable of. I keep my eyes shut, trying not to let the image in my mind leave. It's hopeless. I sigh and open my eyes. It's late morning and I am warm and extremely comfortable in bed. Thank Merlin it's the weekend because I don't think I could bring myself to move if I had to. My erection from the dream is almost painful.

I yawn and stretch and nearly have a heart attack because my arm hits something next to me. I whip my head around and see a mop of frizzy brown hair covering my pillow. The duvet is pulled right up around her and she's facing away from me so I can't be sure it's her.

Surely it's not? It was just a dream wasn't it?

I have to be sure. I gently pull the covers down over her face, careful not to wake her. She moans softly and turns towards me in her sleep.

Oh. My. God! It _is _her!

It all came flooding back to me – the bar, Granger looking mournful over her drink, the mad (completely, utterly _mad_) plan to have that one night before… well. Before real life intruded.

Carefully, I extract myself from the bed and creep towards the door. I need to get out of here, give her time to leave. I never wanted her to be here in the morning for Merlin's sake! I didn't want to _talk_ to her, I just wanted to fuck her.

And fuck her I did! I feel a familiar smirk cross my face and my loins stir as I remember everything from the night before. She had been amazing! I never would have believed that the snotty little know-it-all had it in her!

Well she's definitely had it in her now… A small laugh escapes me and I jump at the sound, my attention immediately returning to the witch in my bed. She doesn't move and I breathe a sigh of relief.

I leave the room quickly and jump in the shower. I'll get breakfast at Diagon Alley, I decide. I don't want to hear her whining voice, it'll only ruin the perfect night.

I dress quickly and leave while she's still sleeping. Hopefully when I come back she'll be gone, if she's got any sense at all.

Diagon Alley is busy. Well it is a Saturday after all. I smirk at all the mindless people running about with their errands. Merlin, it feels fan-fucking-tastic to be Draco Malfoy right now. I pity anyone who isn't me.

Actually I don't, I laugh at them. I plant the trademark Malfoy sneer on my face and make my way towards a bistro, my stomach rumbling. After last nights vigorous workout, I need a good hearty meal inside me. I suppose I could easily have got that for free at the manor, but then I'd have to deal with Father.

The sneer falls from my face at the thought. Father has been absolutely intolerable recently. Since the fall of the Dark Lord, all he's done is whine and whinge about how things could have been better. Secretly I disagree. Why on earth would I want to follow someone who had been defeated by Harry fuck-face Potter? _Five times_ no less. Not to mention the fact that he almost killed all of us.

That's what annoys me most. If it weren't for Snape I'd be dead by now. How can I remain loyal to a man who had wished me dead? Not to mention his threat on my mother.

I… care for my mother. She has always tried to protect me, to do the best for me. Of course, Father says the same thing but I know that's rubbish. If he had wanted the best for me he wouldn't have returned to the Dark Lord after his resurrection.

It gets harder to respect him every day, much less care for him. His two-year stint in Azkaban didn't do him any favours. He has become weak, craven; hiding in his manor where no one can see him, sending Mother out to London for purchases the house elves can't buy. He's not even half the man he was – not that he was much of a man in the first place, grovelling and snivelling over Voldemort's shoes. What happened to "a Malfoy bows to no man"? And "a Malfoy never asks, he takes". Bullshit if you ask me. Of course, Father lives and breathes bullshit.

I've given up living by my father's rules. Not that he'd know it anyway, secreted away in the manor. I can no longer respect him, pathetic thing that he is.

I do feel a small amount of pity for him though. After all, I could have gone the same way. I managed to escape punishment by telling my lawyer about the threat on my family and about trying to help the 'golden trio' when they turned up. My reasons were selfish of course but they don't need to know that. How could Potter defeat the Dark Lord if he was locked up in my dungeons? How could he release me from that prison if he was dead?

So I lied. I lied at great cost to myself – which my lawyer emphasised tremendously of course – in the hope of getting them out of there.

He wasn't lying, my lawyer, about the cost. It was great. After they escaped I was submitted to hours of torture which my Aunt Bellatrix delighted in performing due to some sick romantic infatuation she had with the Dark Lord.

A shudder courses through me at the thought and I sit at a table for one with a menu. In an effort to stop thinking about my father and his twisted life and all it has wrought, I cast my mind back to the previous night.

She had been perfect. Exquisite. Exactly the release I had needed – and who could have known she would be so _good_ at it? She had 'Exceeded Expectations', no she had been 'Outstanding'. Ha!

I snort to myself at the thought; of course she had been outstanding. When had Hermione Granger been anything other than outstanding? I shouldn't have been surprised. I feel myself hardening at the memories, so I try to think of something else. Of course it's impossible. She's all I can think about now.

I'm tempted to go back to my flat and try her out again. I'd have to gag her of course. Surely she wouldn't be able to resist giving me a piece of her mind this time. On that note, I decide against it. Once will have to be enough.

I order an omelette when the waitress approaches. She gives me the expected once over and flushes at the smirk on my face when she realises I noticed. No witch can resist me. Not even the great Hermione Granger. Although I have to admit, I didn't think she would consent to the idea. Obviously she had been pining for me more than I had realised.

Pansy tells me I have an inflated ego. I disagree. I think my ego is perfectly proportional. Every witch wants me. Every wizard wants to be me. It's hard not to notice. All I do is acknowledge that want. What's wrong with that? Granger just proves my theory. I think Pansy's jealous. She's always been a bit of a lesbian.

Of course I can't tell her. She would tell Blaise and Blaise would tell… well, everyone. Blaise has always been a bit of a gossip. Well, it's more that he'd want everyone to know just to see what would happen, and we can't have that can we? People would talk. Draco Malfoy, sleeping with a Mudblood! I don't really believe in that blood-status tripe anymore but I do like to keep up appearances. No. It's best I keep this to myself and hope that Granger does the same. If she's got half the brain power everyone thinks she does, she won't tell a soul.

**Hermione**

I'm waking up from an interesting dream which makes me blush when I realise exactly what it was about. Draco Malfoy. He was doing things to me that were making me scream and writhe in such amounts of pleasure that I didn't even know were possible. I smile sleepily and open my eyes – to a completely unfamiliar room.

Where am I? Why aren't I at home in my own bed? Oh wait… It wasn't a dream was it?! Oh. My. _God_.

I'm in Draco Malfoy's bedroom! I turn quickly to the other side of the bed. It's empty. Thank Merlin!

I get up quickly, throw on my clothes and apparate to the flat I share with Ginny. I walk quickly to the bathroom, desperate not to be confronted until I've showered. I stink of sex. I turn the handle and push and… Oh Merlin, It's locked. _Shit_!

"Is that you Hermione?" Ginny's voice asks through the bathroom door.

"Yeah, it's me," I reply wearily. I know what's coming. I hear the toilet flush and the sound of the bathroom taps.

I retreat to my room quickly before the onslaught begins. As soon as I close the door, I hear footsteps, a knock, and see Ginny's head peer around the door jamb.

"Where were you last night? How come you didn't come home?" she asks.

I ponder what I'm going to say as she steps fully into the room and looks at me.

"Oh Merlin, you had _sex_,didn't you?!" she asks, although it's not really a question.

"Is it really that obvious?" I ask her desperately.

"Hermione," she says, evidently amused, "your top is on backwards, your fly is down and your hair looks like a bird's nest. It's _blatantly_ obvious!" Ginny looks ecstatic. Since when is my sex life such a source of amusement to her? Since I got one outside of her brother I guess.

Ron and I had entered into a relationship after the final battle. We only dated for a few weeks before things got… intimate. I don't regret it. He was a wonderful choice for my first, but both of us felt that we were better off as friends in the end. Despite the fact that we had sex, I'll always love him like a brother. Not like the King Arthur and Morgan Le Fay kind of sibling love. That would be weird, just ordinary brother and sister love. Also I'm not sure I'd be happy about having any little red-haired kids who grow up to off their dad!

I sink onto my bed and sigh, throwing a pillow over my head to hide my smile. Even though I know she'd hate me for it, and it was amazingly stupid of me, I can't help but feel good about it.

"So..?" Ginny prompts.

I remove the smile from my face and force myself to look serious so I can remove the pillow from my head. "So what?" I say incredulously. I know exactly what she wants to know, but she's not going to get the information out of me that easily.

"So who was it, _how _was it? What happened? You _have _to tell me!" She looks positively jubilant.

"No one you know, amazing, and we had sex." I say answering all her questions in one go, hoping there won't be more, but knowing, at the same time, that there will be.

"Oh come on!" Ginny whines as she sits down on my bed. "I want all the juicy details! What's his name? How did it happen? Was he better than Ron?"

Clearly I'm not going to get any respite until I spill so I resolve to tell her as much as I can without revealing who it was. "His name was… Daniel Matthews," I say, keeping to his initials.

My imagination has always been severely limited, as Ginny insists on reminding me at least once a week. Then again, Ginny runs the Quibbler with Luna Lovegood, so her standards for 'imagination' are pretty high.

"We met at the bar," I say. "It's your fault, you know." I might as well blame Ginny. It'll make me feel better. "If you hadn't been so late it would never had happened."

"Daniel Matthews, huh? Well I won't say I'm sorry," she replies mischievously. "It's about time you got laid!"

I privately agree with her. I haven't had a relationship since Ron. Not that you can call what Malfoy and I had a relationship. It was just sex. No it wasn't just sex… It was just bloody fantastic sex!

I wouldn't normally have done it – even now I'm not sure what came over me. Maybe it was the drink, maybe it was his fantastic body, maybe it was the way he looked at me or maybe I just needed a good shag. It doesn't matter anyway. No one will find out, that is if I have my way.

Ginny is smirking lecherously at me in that 'I am so great and you should thank me for having no time-keeping skills' way that she has. "Oh shut up," I say grumbling. "I need a shower."

"I'll bet!" Ginny giggles. "But I won't let you go until you've told me _everything_!"

"You won't let me go? Just how are you going to stop me?"

"Easy," says Ginny, standing up. I watch helplessly as she locks my bedroom door with a swift 'colloportus' and, quick as a flash, disarms me as I draw my own wand to open it again. "And you're supposed to be the brightest witch of the generation!" she scoffs.

My mouth drops open in amazement. Ginny is far tougher than people seemed to think. I sigh and lie down on my bed again. "Okay, okay, I'll tell you."

She settles back down on my bed listens with glee, still holding both of our wands.

"I met him at the bar, like I said. He kept staring at me and eventually came over. I'd had a few drinks and he invited me back to his place and… I accepted."

"So, was he gorgeous?" Eager eyes meet mine.

"Yes, extremely!" I hope she'll be happy with my explanation. I don't mind telling her about the sex, but I'm worried she'll realise I'm lying about who he is. I've never been very good at lying.

"So, what did you do?"

I raise an eyebrow. "What do you_ think_?" I ask her.

She huffs at me, annoyed at my resistance to her questioning. "Oh come on, Hermione! Did you use hands, mouths or…"

"Everything," I interrupt. "We used everything."

Ginny's mouth drops open. "Wow, must have been an eventful night," she almost whispers.

I swear she looks jealous, but she's been with Harry for years and surely has done all of the things we're implying.

Ginny and Harry decided to take it slowly after the war. They knew they wanted to be together forever, but they wanted to live their lives first and not jump straight into marriage and children. I heartily approve of their decision.

Ginny and I have been living together for two years and Ron and Harry have been living together for just as long. It's a nice arrangement. We get to see a lot of each other without getting in each other's way.

Harry and Ron are Aurors, I'm a curse breaker for the Ministry, and Ginny covers Quidditch for Luna, amongst other things – has done since right after the war.

I was offered a position at Auror School at the same time as Harry and Ron, but declined. I'd had too much darkness in my life already. Curse breaking is far from safe, but it's not nearly as bad as being an Auror. It has just the right amount of excitement for me.

And I certainly don't need to go adding to it by sleeping with Draco sodding Malfoy, I remind myself sternly.

"So are you going to see him again?" asks Ginny curiously.

"Most definitely not," I reply.

"Why not?" Ginny looks disappointed. "I thought you said it was _amazing_!" She swoons theatrically on my bed.

"It was," I say, "but it was just a one night stand. We barely spoke to each other. It was just sex, Ginny. Mutual physical attraction, that's all."

"Hmm," She looks thoughtful. "Well, maybe you'll see him again some time and –" she grins suggestively, "– who knows? One thing could lead to another… again."

"I sincerely doubt it," I reply. "Neither of us want it to go any further."

"Who said anything about it going further?" The mischievous look returns. "You can have sex again without it turning into a relationship, you know, and why would a relationship with him be a bad idea?"

"Trust me; we just don't match that way. Now if you'll let me go, I really need to take a shower."

"Well, okay," Ginny reluctantly gives me back my wand. "But if it _does_ happen again, I don't want to have to drag the details out of you. Just bloody tell me, or else!"

"Or else what?" I ask her, finally allowing the grin I've been suppressing all morning to spread across my face.

"Or else I'll tell Harry and Ron you slept with Draco Malfoy."

My jaw drops as she gets up, unlocks the door and leaves for her room. _Damnit_!How the fuck did she know?!

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Well there's the first chapter. Thanks to my beta's Grace Robinson and EmilyMax, love you both! R&R people!


	2. Chapter 2

Diclaimer: I do not own this.

Hi guys! Hope you're ready for another chapter! Warning: SMUT ALERT. And I don't mean that lightly. Enjoy and, oh yeah... REVIEW people! How am I supposed to know what you think if you don't?

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**Draco**

It's Monday morning and I'm at work. I run the Daily Prophet – not what I thought I'd be doing by the time I turned twenty-two, but all things considered, I enjoy it. I'm my own boss, a position that suits me. I get to delegate the boring jobs to my underlings (or 'minions' as I like to call them). I only concentrate on the articles that really interest me.

I insist on covering the Quidditch matches personally and so I will be leaving my ostentatious office in an hour to watch the Holyhead Harpies and the Chudley Cannons have at each other. I already know the outcome. The Cannons don't stand a chance.

The Cannons have always been a somewhat pathetic team – I don't know why they bother, really. The day they win the cup will be the day I donate my inheritance to Madame Sylvia's charity for muggle-born orphans.

Ginny Weasley will most likely be there. She runs the Quibbler with Loony 'Luna' Lovegood. Since Lovegood senior retired and left the business to her, the Quibbler has flourished against all reason. They still do the odd article about Nargles and Crumple-Horned Snorkacks but, other than that, it has become a well rounded and accomplished paper. I will never, ever say this out loud.

Lovegood hired the littlest Weasley as soon as she became the CEO. Weasley is the editor-in-chief and, I have to say, she does a bloody good job of it. The Quibbler boasts a wide coverage of news and fashion articles. Weasley covers the Quidditch matches herself. It seems we share the same enthusiasm for the sport.

I have come to grudgingly admire Ginny Weasley, and I never thought I'd hear myself admit _that_! She has a way with words that leave the reader feeling as though they witnessed the match in person. Of course, my articles are far better, but I don't let that sway my opinion on her writing. Oh, and she doesn't take any shit. I admire that in a witch.

Weasley and I have come to something of an understanding. As we are occasionally forced to work together, we made a pact to leave the… unpleasantness of the past behind us so as to not let it interfere with our work. We don't talk about school, or the war, about choices or families or houses – just Quidditch. It appears to be working so far. We have developed an amusing rapport.

Although she is attractive, I don't think I could ever bring myself to sleep with a Weasley; It's probably the hair. It puts me off. For some incomprehensible reason, she seems to feel the same way (though I don't think it's the hair, for her. I have fabulous hair), and so we usually end up having very amusing conversations that might be considered flirting if we were remotely attracted to each other. Which we are not, no matter what Pansy says. I'm convinced that Pansy has a thing for the littlest Weasley – she goes on about her enough. Too bad for her that Weasley is still utterly infatuated with her idiot boyfriend, Potter.

I pack my briefcase with my black Quick Quotes Quill – a very useful tool when it comes to Quidditch – and make my way down to the apparition point outside the building. I ignore the gushing women who make up my staff. I swear they only want to work here for the chance to look at me everyday. Not that I'm bothered – they put up with the sub-standard wage packet I provide, so either they're incredibly stupid, or I'm incredibly gorgeous. Probably both.

Any men that work for me are obviously extremely talented and receive a considerably higher monthly wage than the simpering women. Of course, if a witch were to prove her skills to me in an article or something similar, I would consider raising their wage, but, as of yet, I haven't seen one with any promise. They do their jobs adequately though, and some mornings I do feel in need of the ego boost they provide, so I sometimes reward them with office parties on special occasions. They seem pleased with their lot and I have yet to receive any complaints.

I reach the apparition point and concentrate. _Destination, Determination, Deliberation. _Ridiculous. I wonder how many people know that the 'three Ds' are a recent invention? I bet Granger does – but I tear my traitorous mind away from thoughts of her before I can go down that well-worn path.

I arrive at the familiar pitch and make my way to the stands. Weasley and I always get a place in the top box; it makes reporting the match a lot easier. I'm extremely glad of it today when the size of the crowd comes into view. All I can hear is the combined babbling of the great unwashed, which immediately starts to irritate me as I make my way up to the top box. A sneer has formed on my face by the time I reach my seat. Ginny Weasley joins me soon after, taking her allotted seat next to mine.

"Malfoy." She greets me cordially.

"Weasley," I reply, in the same tone of voice.

I open my briefcase and extract my Quill and Parchment. Weasley is doing the same beside me and I notice her very ordinary quill.

"Still using your Eagle feather?" I sneer at her. "Quick Quotes Quills are a lot more efficient, you know."

She turns to me and I watch as the corners of her lips turn upwards in a smirk. "I prefer the personal touch, Malfoy. Makes for better reading."

I know she thinks she writes better than me and I try and fail to hold back an insult. "Ah, of course, you just can't afford one," I quip, though I know it isn't true. Weasely makes almost as much as me.

"I could afford ten of them Malfoy and you know it," she replies, not in the least bit offended. I must be losing my touch. "What's wrong with you?" she asks suddenly. "You normally save the insults for after the match. Someone dump you?" She smirks at me again.

"No one dumps a Malfoy, Weasely; I'm just not in the mood for the rabble today."

"I know a few people, myself included, who would, and you should be used to this by now. The rabble is all part and parcel of the wonderful game we call Quidditch. What's really up your nose?"

Not that I'd tell her, of all people, but since my encounter with Granger I've been impossibly horny. I've lost count of the amount of cold showers I've taken. I seduced one of the simpering office bints yesterday evening to sate my urges. Not that it did any good. She had nothing on Granger.

I can't seem to get the witch out of my head. Not the most attractive witch I've had in my chambers but _Merlin_, she's a devil in the sack. If only I could concoct a way to get her back there without her ever-open mouth getting in the way. Not that it's all bad. When she's not using it to talk it can be extremely entertaining.

I force myself to stop thinking about her when I realised how aroused it's making me feel. Then I remember Weasley's waiting for an answer. "None of your business, Weaselette," I snap. "Why on earth would I tell you?"

A flush creeps over her face and I know I've gotten to her. I smirk to myself as she sighs angrily and turns away, focusing once more on the pitch.

The players stream out of the changing rooms and mount their brooms, taking off into the sky. It's a clear day with a slight breeze blowing in from the west. Good conditions. The Harpies do a figure-eight formation around their goal posts, waiting for the other team. The Cannons follow shortly after and the balls are released.

My Quill is set up on the parchment. I talk to it quietly, describing the moves in detail as quickly as I can, determined not to miss anything. Weasley is taking notes next to me, focusing intently on the game in the sky. I don't know how her articles are so accurate – she hardly writes anything during the game, her eyes never leave the players.

The Harpies cream the Canons as predicted. The score at the end of the match is 280 – 100. I read what my quill has written and make notes on the side of the parchment for editing later, pack away my things and stand. Weasley is still writing on her parchment as the box clears around her.

"Sure you got it all Weasley?" I sneer as I look at her practically blank parchment.

"Perfectly," she replies smugly. "If you're curious, pick up a Quibbler tomorrow, maybe you can learn a few things." There is absolutely no need for me to read her finished article. I know it will be exemplary.

"I've got better things to do with my time," I say, then give her my best come-hither smile. "You, for example."

"In your dreams Malfoy." She grins at me.

"Every night," I lie playfully. "Why don't you come back with me and we'll make it a reality." I already know she won't take me up on my offer or I would never have said it. She is intelligent enough to know when I'm joking, unlike most of the female race.

"Are you sure there's not someone else you'd rather be with?" she says, a malicious look in her eyes. "From what I've heard, it's not me you've been dreaming about."

She startles me with her words, though I'd never let it show. Does she know about Granger? I should have known the brainbox wouldn't be able to keep her mouth shut.

"Who exactly are you talking about, Weasley?"

I don't want to jump the gun and ask her straight off about Granger – she could be talking about any number of women. It would be stupid to put my foot in it if she hasn't said anything, and I must say, I didn't think she would. Although Ginny – although _Weasley_ would be the only person I might be content with knowing.

"No one in particular, but I know for a fact that you'd rather swallow the Draught of Living Death than take me back to your manor. What _would_ your father say?" she asks cheekily.

Inwardly I relax. She didn't know, or if she did, she wasn't telling.

We walk down to the apparition point together, continuing the banter. She apparates away and I follow suit.

Back at my office, I decide to take the rest of the day off. I can't seem to keep my mind on the job. Thoughts of a certain frizzy haired witch keep steamrolling through my brain. There's got to be some way to get her back into my bed, even if it's just to prove to myself that she wasn't as exceptional as I seem to recall.

I need to get her out of my head; it's ruining my appetite for the several very sexy witches I know are just waiting for my owl. There are many far more beautiful women out there than Hermione Granger and most of them want to sleep with me.

Oh, who am I kidding, _all _of them want to sleep with me.

One more clandestine meeting with the frizzy haired bookworm and this little… infatuation will be over. Now, how to see to it that she comes? In more ways than one.

**Hermione**

It's Monday afternoon and I'm taking my lunch break. Work has been particularly tricky today and I'm glad of the respite. Normally I would be pleased with the challenge, but the cursed objects I have been assigned to for the week aren't exceptionally difficult.

Usually I would have finished nearly all of the assignments given to me by now, but at the moment I seem to be working at a slower rate. I'm a little embarrassed to admit to myself that the reason behind this is that a certain blonde wizard's magnificent body keeps popping into my head and distracting me.

I can't seem to stop thinking about Friday night. Ginny had asked me if Malfoy had been better than Ron. I didn't answer her at the time but let's just say that 'better' isn't the word. He had been astonishingly wonderful.

Ron wasn't bad; he had been gentle, slow and sweet and it's not as if he didn't give me pleasure. However, Malfoy had given me more pleasure in one night than I had ever experienced with Ron. I feel slightly guilty at the thought. Malfoy doesn't deserve that kind of recognition. Ron is ten times the man Malfoy will ever be.

I sigh as I sit at the café table. It's a lovely day, so I decide to eat outside. Sitting under a parasol, I browse the menu. I deliberate for a minute, then settle on a vegetable salad.

I'm not a vegetarian but I don't feel the need to have meat with every meal, something Ron has always insisted on.

My salad arrives and I eat it thoughtfully. It's good. I make a note to come back here more often.

"Granger." A silky voice floats towards me.

I turn in my seat and – oh _shit_.

It's Malfoy.

"What do _you_ want?" I ask him coldly.

I don't want to hear his opinion of Friday night's frivolities. I never want to hear him speak again. It's not his voice I have a problem with, but the opinions it expresses. All I wanted was one night with his body – one unforgettable night, as it turns out.

No doubt he wants to throw some scathing comments my way but I really can't be bothered with him. Especially not after having to endure him invading my mind all morning.

There is a long pause before his voice sounds again. "Just to talk," he replies.

My face flushes as I immediately recognise what he's doing. Those were the exact words we had both used the last time we met.

"I find that hard to believe," I reply, following the script of our previous encounter.

I wonder if he's expecting a repeat performance. I find myself hoping that he is. I forcibly eject the thought from my mind. That would be a very bad idea, I tell myself. _Very _bad.

A shiver runs down my spine as I look up into slate-grey eyes staring at me in obvious lust once more. He can't seriously want me again. Although he did seem to enjoy himself last time.

Heat rushes to my centre as I contemplate the idea. It's tempting, I must admit. I had heard the rumours circulating around Hogwarts about Malfoy's supposed sex-god status, but Friday night had been one hell of an eye opener.

"Why don't we go somewhere more private?"

His voice washes over me. I can't believe this. He does want me again. Why me? He could have any witch in Britain. I shouldn't even be considering this. He's just using me.

Of course, I understand that because I was doing exactly the same thing to him last time. I hate his personality, but I can't get enough of his body.

As I internally argue with myself, he leans closer to me, puts his cheek alongside mine and whispers in my ear.

"No one has to know," he murmurs. "It will be our little secret."

His voice makes me shiver. He might be a complete git but _Merlin _is he sexy. An overwhelming feeling of lust washes over me. I want to say yes, I _need _to say yes, but I'm behind at work. I have a responsibility.

I need to say no.

"Granger?"

Another shiver runs down my body. I look into his eyes and make my decision.

I nod once, almost imperceptibly, and take my quill and some parchment out of my bag. I write a note to my boss, begging off for the rest of the day, claiming I'm not well.

"Be right back," I mumble.

I walk to the post office in a daze, pay 5 sickles for a delivery owl, and return to the café. Malfoy is standing outside waiting for me.

I stop a few yards from him and stare at him, wondering if he was serious. He's looking at me. His eyes darken and I watch as they travel over my body. I shiver and let my eyes roam over his shape.

He is dressed impeccably as always. His blond hair is styled perfectly. I can see the shape of his muscles through his robes and I feel wetness spread between my legs as I imagine running my hands over his body.

Suddenly he stalks towards me. I jump slightly in surprise. He grabs my upper arm roughly and tandem-apparates me to his flat, just like last time.

He lets go as soon as we arrive and steps back slightly. He's looking at me again. I wonder what he's thinking. Is he reconsidering? Was this a mistake?

"Malfoy…" I begin, but I am halted by his fingers against my lips.

"Shut up, Granger." His voice is gruff; it makes my entire body tingle.

He pulls me towards him, wraps his fingers up in my hair and kisses me harshly. I kiss him back with abandon.

He starts pulling at my robes, almost ripping them in his passion. He pulls them over my head, dropping them to the floor. I hear a rumbling growl come from him before he grabs me again.

I follow suit, undressing him quickly. My fingernails rake over his bare chest. I hear him gasp and watch as his eyes widen. I smirk in amusement. Obviously he didn't think I had it in me. Well, I do, and I'm quite enjoying the surprise on his face. I wonder what else I can do to evoke that expression?

He's standing naked before me, his hardness apparent. I grab his hips and pull him closer. He's letting me take control, wonder evident on his face.

I pull his face towards me, but turn it away. I bite his neck, not quite so gently. I hear him moan and lust roars through my body. Slowly, I trail my tongue down his bare chest, stopping to suck his nipples, grazing my teeth over them. When I hear him moan again, I let my tongue move further down his body, teasing his skin with my fingernails as I drop to my knees.

I hear another gasp as I take his cock in my hands, exploring with my fingertips. I memorise every centimetre of skin. When I am intimately familiar with his shape, I take him in my mouth.

I hear him gasp and when he moans I can feel the vibration on my tongue. I push him further in, slowly swallowing more of him until his entire length is inside me, pushing against the back of my throat. He's big so I start off slow, careful not to make myself gag.

I begin to suck, slowly swirling my tongue over the head.

His head rolls back on his shoulders and I watch as his hands come up to entwine themselves tightly in my hair. I cup his balls in my hand and massage him slowly. I can feel him getting larger in my mouth. I start to bob my head in and out and his knees almost buckle.

"Granger…" I hear him gasp.

I double my efforts and my speed while he trembles inside my mouth. I feel his balls start to twitch.

"Granger, stop!" His voice becomes more desperate and I stop suddenly, letting him pop out of my mouth. He grunts and forcibly brings me back to my feet.

His lips crash onto mine once more and I feel his hands at my breasts. He massages me roughly, tweaking my nipples until they are fully erect, standing straight out from my chest. I whimper at the feeling and gasp when I feel his lips and tongue on my right nipple. I feel his teeth nibble carefully and a moan escapes me. He swirls his tongue around my nipple until I moan again, then he moves onto the left breast.

He continues his ministrations while I writhe insensibly against him. I feel his hands at my thighs, pushing my legs apart. I widen my stance to grant him access and immediately feel his fingers invade me. A guttural moan escapes and my knees buckle. I would have fallen to the floor but he catches me and carries me from the living room into the bedroom. He drops me from a short height and resumes his attack on my cunt. His fingers pump inside me, faster and faster. I can feel my orgasm approaching.

"Malfoy!" I cry out, losing myself to his fingers.

"Draco," he replies forcefully. "While you're here, I want you to call me Draco."

"Malfoy…" I begin again, barely comprehending his words. I gasp as he stops and withdraws his fingers suddenly. I miss his touch immediately.

"_Draco_!" he growls at me.

"Please," I whisper. "Don't stop."

I begin to wriggle on the bed in torment. I was so close. How dare he stop now?!

"Beg," he whispers dangerously.

I look straight into his eyes. I can't believe he wants me to beg. I refuse.

"No," I say. I won't beg. Not for Draco Malfoy's pleasure.

He lets his fingers run lightly down my body. He starts from my neck and his fingertips travel over my breasts and nipples, down to my hips and along my inner thighs. I tremble as his fingers tease at the juncture of my hips and thighs, refusing to touch me where I want it most. I want to scream in frustration.

"_Beg_!" he repeats, starting to scratch the inside of my thighs.

I moan out loud in unfulfilled pleasure. I can't take it anymore. I don't care. No one will know anyway. No one except him, and I don't think we'll be having a conversation about it anytime soon.

"Please, Draco, I need to feel you, please don't stop, make me come!" The words spill out of me in a rush of breath. I won't meet his eyes while I'm pleading with him. It's embarrassing enough as it is. I don't need to see his obvious satisfaction.

Suddenly he buries his face in my pussy and I scream loudly. I grab and twist his hair in my hands as I feel his tongue explore me. He starts to suck on my clit and I can feel myself coming to the edge.

"Oh Merlin, Draco, don't stop, _please_ don't stop, I'm gonna come!" I cry, completely abandoning any sense of decorum.

He plunges his fingers inside me and pumps savagely bringing me over the edge and back again. I scream as I come onto his hands and mouth. He removes his fingers and licks at the juices that escape me. I shudder as his mouth leaves my thighs to kiss me furiously on the lips. I can taste myself on his tongue and I shiver again as he settles his body over mine.

His muscles ripple as he holds himself above me. I run my hands over his shoulders and chest, revelling in the sight of his glorious body poised to fill me.

He thrusts suddenly and enters me in one swift motion. He fills me completely. I've never felt so full.

He starts to pound into me, angling himself perfectly to hit me just right every time. I scream his name and push my hips up to meet his thrusts.

He speeds up, pushing me closer and closer to my limit. I wrap my legs around his waist and he moans loudly. I tighten my grip, pulling him further and further inside me. His breath is becoming shorter. I watch him gasping and I know he's close.

"Granger…" he groans.

I release him from my leg's grip and hold him at bay with my arms.

"Hermione," I insist. If I have to call him Draco then he can bloody well call me Hermione.

"Hermione, please…" He's begging me. I can't hold him back any longer. He falls back into me and I wrap my legs back around him immediately. He cries out as my body swallows him to the hilt. He thrusts into me with abandon and I come suddenly around him, shuddering in pleasure.

"_Merlin, _Hermione!" he cries, and I feel his whole body tremble as he comes hard inside me.

His body relaxes and he collapses on top of me, shaking from exertion. He rolls off me and lies beside me on the bed, his eyes closing, his face peaceful.

As much as I hate him, my heart softens at seeing him so vulnerable. He actually looks like a normal person.

"Until next time, Granger," he says coldly, his eyes still closed. His tone is lazy and the dismissal is obvious.

I sigh and leave the room to dress. Any thoughts of him being a normal person have fled my mind. At least I don't have to worry about romantic infatuation. That would make this situation even more ridiculous.

I leave without another word and apparate directly to my flat. Ginny is still working so I have the place to myself. Thank Merlin!

I jump straight in the shower and wash away all traces of the man. I won't let this happen again, I resolve to myself. As good as it is it's not worth it.

* * *

Thanks to my Beta's Grace Robinson and EmilyMax. They have been a huge help with this chapter as I've never written a sex scene before. Before they got hold of it, it was very Mills and Boon. So a big round of applause for them :D Love you guys!


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys. Sorry it took so long to post, both my beta's were away on holiday and I really needed their help for this one. Thanks once again to EmilyMax and Grace Robinson for some excellent beta work. Special thanks to Grace who practically wrote half of it! Hope you like it**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of this.**

* * *

**Draco.**

I keep my eyes closed as she moves out of the room. I don't want to make eye contact; she might think I want to talk. I feel perfectly relaxed and immensely satisfied as I wait for the popping sound that means she has disapparated.

Once I hear it, I open my eyes and smile. That went well – much better than I had hoped. I had thought that she would want to talk about her… _feelings_. I don't think I could have taken it. A Malfoy doesn't express _feelings, _much less admit to them.

I imagine it, shuddering. She would whine about how I've treated her in the past (missing the point that those occasions were, in fact, 'in the past') and expect me to prostrate myself at her feet in shame. Hah. I only ever taunted her to get to Potter and the Weasel. After all, a mudblood is, as Father taught me, beneath the notice of a Malfoy. If she hadn't been one of Potter's little coterie, she would have been left well alone. Of course, Potter and Weasley were so appallingly _Gryffindor_ that one word against their pet know-it-all was enough.

We've come a long way from Hogwarts. I think of the Hermione Granger I knew at school, and compare her to the woman I took to bed. She was perfect, again. I have to admit I was surprised at her ferocity. It really did something for me. I would never have believed she could behave so wickedly. I still have scratch marks on my chest. Without magic, they won't fade for at least two days; I think I might leave them there to remind me of her.

There are hidden depths to Hermione Granger that I would never have deduced. I must find a way to see her again. Maybe I should let her talk. Pretend to listen. That way she might see fit to grace my bed with her body once more.

Yes, that might work. I will be sympathetic, understanding and above all, apologetic. She need never know I don't mean a word I say. She wants my body as much as I desire hers – I just need to give her a reason to be forthcoming with her favours. If I make her enjoy my personality as much as she does my cock, then I can continue to use her until I can find someone less irritating. I reluctantly admit that whoever replaces Granger will have to be up to her standards in the bed chamber. A Malfoy has only the best.

Perhaps I can use Ginny Weasely to achieve my ends. She likes to think she understands me; a friendship with her will be beneficial to my plans.

Of course, this may not be necessary. If Granger covets my physique as much as I think she does – and I smirk a little when I remember her obvious attempts to pleasure me – then she will come crawling back for more. There will be no need for me to do any work at all.

I close my eyes again and try to relive the past hour. The scratches on my chest tingle and I can almost feel her hands on me again. I can feel myself getting hard and so I begin to stroke myself. Another climax seems to be required before I can put the witch from my mind.

I put myself to the task and before long I am cleaning myself up with my wand and dressing.

I start to make myself some lunch before realising that I really can't be bothered - not to mention that my pantry is almost empty. There is nothing in my cupboards that tempts me either. I could go out to eat again, but I don't think I'm in the mood to be in the public eye today. Instead, I apparate to the Manor.

I haven't been to visit my mother for a few weeks and I feel the need to see how she's getting on. Caring for Father has been quite gruelling for her. He's almost like a child now; he needs constant care. Besides, I know the house elves will cook something spectacular. My stomach rumbles at the thought.

As I arrive, a house-elf greets me.

"Master Draco! What a pleasure it is for Kinka to be seeing sir!" the house elf gushes.

"Where is my mother?" I ask coldly. I do not bully the house elves as I once did as a child, but I do not molly-coddle them either. They are servants and should be treated as such.

"Mistress is in the study with the Master, would Master Draco be liking Kinka to show him, sir?"

"I grew up here, elf; I think I can remember the way." Stupid elf, why would I need someone to show me around my own house?

"Of course Master Draco, Kinka is sorry, Kinka begs pardon, Master Draco!" she whimpers, throwing herself at my feet.

I roll my eyes. _Elves._ Honestly.

"Oh, get up, elf. Go and prepare some lunch. I am hungry." I shake her off my foot in disgust and make my way up to the study.

Kinka – _the elf,_ I remind myself – hurries off to the kitchen behind me. I can hear her wailing her gratitude for my benevolence as I walk away.

I approach the study, listening carefully. I can hear conversation coming from the closed door. I press my ear against it to hear more clearly. Hey, seven years in the Slytherin dungeons would have made _Granger_ listen at doors. I scowl. I shouldn't be thinking of her – not now.

"Lucius, please come here, we need to go to the dining room and eat some lunch. Don't you want your lunch?" I hear my mother's voice ask.

"No, I'm not going!" comes the reply in my father's voice. He sounds like a five year old child.

"Why not Lucius? Aren't you hungry?"

"Don't want to go down there." His voice is petulant and stubborn. What has my father become?

"But _why _Lucius? It's not very far; you can come back up here afterwards I promise." My mother's voice is so patronising and so reminiscent of my childhood that my toes curl inside my shoes.

"Want to stay _here_!" His adult voice shouts, full of childish anger.

I hear my mother sigh at his reply. "Fine. Stay here. I'm going to go and eat in the dining room."

I hear footsteps getting louder as they approach the door. I knock quickly before she realises I've been standing there the whole time. The door opens and my mother steps out.

"Draco!" she says, embracing me. "How lovely to see you. You didn't say you would be here today."

"No, it was a spur of the moment thing. I was hungry actually. I haven't restocked my kitchen in a while." I take a moment to look at her.

She's looking worn; an echo of her former self.

"Where is Father?" I pretend not to know.

Mother's face is calm, as it always is. She was raised to remain poised and perfect in every situation. She kept her strength throughout my childhood, when she argued almost daily with Father over my upbringing and – in the end – my schooling. She kept her strength through Voldemort's second rise, as he decimated the Malfoys and the Blacks. She kept her strength when Father was taken to Azkaban, when I took the Dark Mark, when Dumbledore died and when Potter killed the Dark Lord. She loved my father enough to follow him into the Dark Lord's service, to bear his child, to stand by him when he was imprisoned. How ironic, then, that it is her love for Father that is draining her dry. I try not to see it. I wish I couldn't see it.

She sidesteps my question and doesn't look me in the eye when she pretends I don't know. She used to be so good at that; it's jarring how obvious it is now.

"He's… not feeling himself today Draco," she says. "Come with me." Ah, so she wants to keep his condition private does she? She doesn't want to tell her son that his father is going insane. I can live with that. As long as Mother says nothing, I am able to not know.

We walk together to the dining room and sit down at the table. The elves have prepared an excellent roast chicken with all the trimmings. My mouth waters appreciatively.

I tuck in at once. When I have eaten my fill, a house elf brings me a cup of black coffee and I turn to my mother once more. Looking at her again, I rethink my previous decision. I need to talk to mother about father. She's looking positively ill and there's nothing wrong with _her_. She'll overwork herself if she carries on like this.

"Mother, you're looking tired. If he's too much for you to handle on your own, perhaps we should seek professional help."

She looks at me as though I've slapped her.

"No," she says. "Absolutely not, Lucius wouldn't want people to see him like…" She trails off , passing the back of a trembling hand across her mouth as she looks at me, realising she's said too much.

"Like what, Mother?" I prompt.

I can see her gathering herself as if to tell me some bad news – as if to tell me something I don't know. To anyone else she would look calm, even regal. To me, she looks pained. I wait patiently

"Draco, your father is… quite ill," she says. "We cannot let anyone find out. It would be seen as a weakness and your father would hate for anyone to see him this way. We must handle this ourselves."

_Handle this ourselves_? Does she want me to care for him? I force down the horror that rises at the very thought. I think for a moment about finding a way around the issue as we've done for so long, but decide that the time for half-measures is past. "Mother," I say, as firmly as I would speak to one of my senior journalists, "I cannot help you with this. I simply don't have the time. I have a business to run and you _cannot_ work yourself to death, caring for a sick man."

Mother looks as though I've slapped her. It makes me irrationally angry – she has been so strong for so long, how _dare _she break down now?

"You are thinking in the past," I say, willing her to understand. The wizarding world is not as it was. The Malfoy name is not as it was. "Father is unwell. He must have treatment." I state the facts as baldly as I can. It doesn't help with the roiling in my gut. "It would not be a weakness any longer for us to seek help; there is no one to appear weak _before._ He has spent time in Azkaban and is continuing to pay for it. We should put him in St. Mungo's, where they can care for him properly; it's what they do best."

"You know how he would feel about that," Mother says sternly, calmly. To an outsider, that's what it would sound like, but I know.

I'm making her angry. I don't want to fall out with her. I sigh inwardly – just as my mother's love for my father is her weakness, my love for my mother is mine. If this is what she wants to do, then she can do it, but I will _not_ be forced into babysitting my father.

"Fine," I snap. "Keep him here, but for Merlin's sake get the house elves to help you. You look like death walking."

She doesn't look very pleased at my words, but nods, realising I am bowing to her decision. We simultaneously look up as the dining room door opens.

My father shuffles into the room looking at me nervously. I wonder if he recognises me. It's almost liberating to think he might not.

"Father." I address him in greeting.

He does not answer. Instead he sidles over to the opposite side of the table and as far away from me as possible before he sits. "Wansomfood," he mumbles.

"Pardon, Lucius?" Mother asks politely. I can see the strain around her eyes mount with every second that I share space with them. It's jarring to know that I am the outsider, here.

"Want some food," he says, a little more clearly.

"What do you say, Lucius?"

I'm surprised she didn't ask him for the _magic word_. I snort quietly into my coffee. It's that or run.

"WANT SOME FOOD NOW!" he roars, pounding the table.

Mother gasps but recovers quickly. She stands and leans on the table, staring at him. "Lucius, that's quite enough," she says sternly.

To my immense surprise I see fear in my father's eyes at her rebuke. He lowers his head and sits quietly until a house elf scurries over to him with a plate full of food. I watch in disgust as he shovels it down with no exhibition of the table manners he spent years drilling into me.

Mother retakes her seat at the head of the table and sips her coffee calmly.

_This is completely insane_, I think to myself. No wonder she wanted to keep it from me. Lucius Malfoy is gone.

"Is he like this all the time?" I ask my mother quietly.

"He's been getting progressively worse," she says, her eyes on Father as he eats. "I've had a private healer come to see him – all confidential of course – and she says there's no treatment in existence that would prevent further regression."

I feel ashamed. I would have known about this sooner had I come to visit more often. Last time I was here he was still almost himself, though a very withdrawn version of the Lucius Malfoy I knew before Azkaban.

"Did they say what will happen to him – in the long term, I mean?" I say, wanting to comfort her in some way but not knowing how.

She sniffs in a way that I can almost convince myself is disdainful, rather than defeated. "They don't know. They've never seen this before," she says. "He should never have been sent to Azkaban after disobeying the Dark Lord." There is anger simmering beneath the words, although the 'they' she speaks of are long gone. "The Dementors tore him to pieces, mentally speaking. I'm surprised he can still talk."

My eyebrows climb to my hair line. I had never realised it was that bad. No wonder he'd been acting strangely. "Mother, I really do think you should reconsider St. Mungo's," I say, after a long and thoughtful pause. She makes no move to object, but I can see the revulsion in her face. "Not right now," I assure her. "Just keep it in mind if he gets worse."

Mother raises one perfectly shaped eyebrow. Even now she is the perfect pureblood wife. "Draco, I am well aware of my own limits. If it gets to the point where I can no longer care for him at home, of course I will do what is best for my husband." She even manages a brief smile. "You have to realise, my son… there is nothing they can do. There is no cure for his condition. Lucius would not want the public to know. He would want to be here. I will not submit him to public scrutiny."

Here is the woman I am used to; practical and logical, speaking plain facts with no emotional baggage. Once she has made up her mind, she is immovable.

"Very well Mother." I must admit I am relieved. I could keep the Prophet from publishing anything derogatory, but I would not like to see Father brought down in the media again. "I will do what I can for you both, but I cannot be here every day."

"Draco, If I hadn't realised that by now, you should be locking _me _up in St. Mungo's. I don't want to keep you from your life and your work, neither would your father. Just… make an effort. He might not be around for much longer."

She turns her cool gaze to my father once more. He has procured a quill and some parchment, probably from an elf, and is busy drawing pictures of muggles being tortured. At least, I assume they're muggles. There is only so much you can glean from a non-magical drawing.

"I will come as often as I can Mother," I say, deliberately not making any promises.

She seems to realise this and she nods again.

My mother is far more intelligent than she looks. She knows I am not comfortable seeing my father this way and she knows I won't be here half as often as is possible. She does not complain however; she silently understands. We are good at this, she and I – at not saying what needs to be not said.

I remember the final battle. I heard the fear in my parents' voices as they frantically shouted my name, searching for me among the wounded and the bloody. It was one of the only times I experienced loving contact, when they held me afterwards, although it was more out of desperation and fear for what could have been. I still felt the connection, perhaps stronger than ever before, or since.

It is something I remind myself of if I ever doubt their devotion to me. My father may have been a complete idiot, following the Dark Lord, but I never doubted that he cared for me, not after that night.

I stand up from the table and cross the room to the door. "Take care of yourself, Mother."

I turn to the man drawing boys' pictures. "Father," I say, by way of goodbye.

As I leave the room, and my childhood home, my previous good mood vanishes.

Merlin, I need a drink.

**Hermione**

It's still early in the day and I feel the need to keep myself busy. I can hardly go back to work after saying I was ill so I tidy around my flat.

I have been invited to the Weasley's for dinner. I love going there. I get to see everyone I love (apart from my own family, of course) and there's always so much activity, talking and laughter I can barely hear my own thoughts.

Now more than ever I need to be away from my thoughts. I feel dirty, like a slut.

Why did I even think about doing that with Malfoy? _Twice_! It should have been unthinkable. In fact it is. The only explanation is that the logical part of my brain shuts down whenever I'm around him. A pretty feeble excuse, I know. The problem was that he caught me surprise, both times. Next time I'll be ready.

I ignore the little voice that whispers, _Next time?_

The one thing at the Weasley's I'm not looking forward to is talking to Ginny. I haven't had a chance to confront her about Malfoy yet. Either her powers of deduction are astonishing or I'm a terrible liar. I hope it's the former, I don't like being bad at something so useful.

There are two things I want to ask Ginny when I get the chance:

Question One – How did she know and…

Question Two – What was she going to do with that information?

From what I can tell so far she hasn't told anyone, but I may not have realised yet if she has. I'm terrified of Harry or Ron finding out. Harry will be disgusted and Ron will hate me. There's no way Ron could ever understand what happened had been just animal magnetism. He'll shout at me and accuse me of having feelings for him which, of course, is absolutely barmy.

Draco Malfoy is the epitome of everything I hate. He is a bigot, he is racist, he looks down on everyone, he treats house elves terribly, he treats _humans_ terribly, he is coarse and vulgar and I hate him.

The only thing I don't hate about him is his body, and _Merlin _what a body!

No. I mustn't think about that. Ever again. _Ever_.

Perhaps that will keep Ginny from telling. If I let her know it wont ever happen again – but then, I already said that once. Of course, she doesn't have to know about today. I simply won't tell her. Hopefully that'll put an end to this impossible situation once and for all.

Smiling and humming to myself I finish cleaning the flat and make myself ready for dinner with the Weasleys. It's always an informal affair with Ron's family.

I apparate to the door and knock politely.

"Hermione." Mrs Weasley's beaming face appears in front of me. "So glad you could make it. Come in, come in, make yourself at home. Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy, Audrey, George, Harry and Ron are already here –" she almost runs out of breath listing them all "– Ginny will be here shortly, she's running a little late from work."

You can always count on Molly Weasley to bring you up to date on any situation. The whole family is here. I wonder what's going on.

"We're having dinner in the garden again; Merlin knows I can't fit all of you around my kitchen table, especially now you're all grown up." She clasps her hands in front of her and seems to swell with happiness.

I smile back at her, her happiness already catching me. "Why so many people, Mrs Weasley? Last time I came it was just Ron, Harry, Ginny and I."

"It was Bill's idea. Not sure why yet but I'm sure we'll find out," she says.

I get the idea she might know already, or at least have her suspicions, and from her unwavering joviality I think I might know as well. Before I can comment she barrels on:

"And how many times do I need to tell you to call me Molly, Hermione? You're an adult now. There's no need for this Mrs Weasley business."

"Sorry, Molly, it's a hard habit to break." Noticing the lack of noise coming from the living room I add, "Where is everyone?"

"In the garden, dear, they've already set up the table. Now if you will excuse me, I must get back to the kitchen, that dinner won't cook itself you know."

I nod and watch as she bustles off.

As I make my way towards the open back door, the noise level greatly increases. I smile to myself as I hear Ron's booming laugh and quicken my step. As soon as I step outside the Weasley clan turn to me and wave smiling. I laugh out loud and find a seat next to Ron.

"Hey, Hermione," he says as I take my place. "How've you been?"

"Ron, you saw me last week," I say, laughing.

"Yeah, well I mean since then, don't I."

"Fine, Ron, just fine. So what's going on? What's with the family reunion?" I ask, although from Mrs Weasley's – from _Molly's_ hints I think I already know.

"No idea," Ron states, confusion evident on his face. Merlin's beard, he can be so dense sometimes.

"Well I expect we'll find out shortly," I reply as Ginny arrives, running to Harry and kissing him soundly on the lips – much to everyone's amusement.

Harry goes a bit red and Ginny smiles impishly as she takes her seat next to him.

"Hey guys," Ginny says. "So what's with the party?"

"I've got a bit of an announcement to make but I want to wait until Mum's here to make it," Bill replies.

Ginny looks at Fleur and smiles knowingly. Not much gets past that one.

Molly chooses that moment to come marching out of the house, dishes full of food floating after her. She waves her wand and they settle on the table. She takes her seat next to Arthur and smiles.

"Right, dig in everyone."

They do, with gusto. I have a bit of cauliflower cheese and apple pie for pudding.

After eating I sit back in my seat and look at my friends. Everyone seems happy. It didn't seem like anything would be right again when Voldemort was alive. I used to wonder how many more meals we would have together before we would be torn apart.

Of course, there are people missing. Fred's face seems to grin at me from beyond the grave in his twin brother's countenance and I know he's here in spirit. How could he not be? This is a family reunion after all.

It is a cheerful affair. Everyone is talking, sharing news about their lives and joking with each other. There is a lot of laughter and a bit of fussing from Molly. Arthur is talking to Percy about the Ministry. Bill, Charlie, George, Angie and Ron are talking Quidditch. Molly and Audrey are talking softly to Fleur about decorating their new house and Harry and Ginny are in their own little world.

When everyone has finished eating, Bill stands and taps his glass with a knife. It promptly shatters, and everyone laughs. When the laughter has died down, Bill repairs the glass with his wand and begins to speak.

"Now, I know you're all wondering why I asked you all here today and as I said before, I have an announcement." He takes Fleur's hand and smiles down at her. "_We _have an announcement."

I knew it.

He turns to Molly and Arthur, a smile on his scarred face. "Mum, Dad, you're about to become grandparents."

I _knew_ it.

Everyone cheers. Molly shrieks, jumps to her feet and hugs Bill fiercely. Arthur waits patiently until Molly has moved onto Fleur and shakes Bill's hand then pulls him into a hug as well.

"Oh," Molly cries. "I'm just so happy! I can't believe it, congratulations you two." Tears well up in her eyes and she turns to her husband. "Oh Arthur, we're going to have grandchildren. Isn't it wonderful?"

"Yes Molly, I heard," he replies, laughing.

Bill rolls his eyes and then turns to his brothers and Harry, who have all lined up for handshakes and to offer their congratulations as well. Ginny and I hug Fleur and wish her well with her pregnancy. Everyone swaps places as the boys congratulate Fleur and Ginny and I hug Bill.

"Wow." I hear Ron's voice floating above the rest of the chatter. "I'm going to be an Uncle!"

I catch his eye and he smiles broadly. I smile back. He looks so happy. I make my way over to him and give him a hug.

"Congratulations, Uncle," I whisper to him.

He beams at me, looking proud. He turns to Harry who's standing next to him.

"Hey Harry, I'm going to be an Uncle!"

"Congrats mate," he replies and shakes his hand.

"You're not the only one, Ron," shouts Bill over the turmoil, indicating to the other Weasley brothers, then he points at Harry. "And Harry's honorary Uncle too," he adds.

Harry beams at him.

"You're an Aunt now too Hermione – you two have always been part of the family."

A very intense emotion wells up inside of me and tears fill my eyes. I never thought I'd be an aunt, being an only child. I approach Bill and Fleur again. "Words can't express how honoured I am," I say quietly.

"Me too," comes Harry's voice from right next to me. I hadn't noticed but he must have walked up to them with me. "Thank you, Bill, Fleur, from the bottom of my heart."

Bill and Fleur hug us both again and everyone takes their seats at the table once more. Harry surprises me then by standing up and tapping his glass. He comically checks to make sure it's still intact before speaking, inducing much laughter.

"As honoured as I am to be an honorary uncle, I'd like to take this opportunity to make myself an official family member."

Everyone gasps as he gets down on one knee before Ginny and produces a ring box from his pocket.

"Ginny Weasley, will you make me the happiest man in the world and agree to be my wife?"

Everyone gasps. Molly looks utterly shocked, as does Ginny. Obviously this was something she _hadn't _seen coming. Everyone waits with bated breath for her answer.

"Yes." She almost whispers, for once not seeming so confident and fiery.

"Yes?" Harry asks her quietly. I can see from his face that he's worried. Ginny seems unsure somehow.

"YES!" she shouts, throwing herself into his arms and kissing him all over his face, her confidence back in full force.

Everyone cheers and claps as Harry places the ring on her finger. It's beautiful. A single band of silver with a small (but obviously very expensive) diamond. Molly bursts into tears of happiness.

"Oh, my baby's getting married! My baby's getting married _and_ I'm going to be a grandmother! This is the happiest day of my life!" She cries into her hanky.

Another round of congratulations commences and I run up to Harry and Ginny, pulling them into a three way hug. I reach behind my back for Ron and pull him in too.

I feel a wetness on my cheeks and realise I am crying. Who know I was such a sucker for romance? This certainly was a day to remember. It's times like these I wish Ron and I had worked out.

The celebrations carry on long into the night with plenty of firewhiskey, many hugs and lots of cheers. George sets off some fireworks and everyone relaxes into the warm family atmosphere.

Ron elects to sleep at the Burrow tonight to give the happy couple some privacy and I floo home to my flat, far too inebriated to even think about apparating. I'm glad to get some privacy myself. I was happy for everyone at first but as the evening wore on, I started to feel uncomfortable.

Harry was really part of their family now. I know I'm an _honorary _member but sometimes I still feel as though I'm intruding. I'll never truly be a part of the family and sometimes, like tonight, that bothers me.

As much as I am happy for him, I feel like I lost something with Harry tonight. He had always been a kindred spirit when it came to the Weasleys, someone who was welcomed like family but didn't truly belong. Now I feel as though I am on my own. I know I'm being stupid – it's probably the alcohol, but I can't help how I feel.

My parents have been a bit wary of me since I modified their memories before going away with Harry and Ron to find the Horcruxes. I think they're a bit daunted by a daughter who could have so much control over them. They tried to make up for the inadequacy they felt by being very strict with me when I found them in Australia and still try to control my life with advice and talk about getting married and careers and so on. I can understand why they do it, but it doesn't make it any easier to deal with.

They wanted me to go to muggle university after Hogwarts, like a 'normal' person, but I outright refused. I tried to explain to them that the qualifications wouldn't be recognised in wizarding society and that, since I was planning to make my life in the magical world, it would have been a mistake to sign away three years of my life for a piece of paper that would never see the light of day. They didn't understand – they _don't_ understand. My parents are from a different world now. Things have become very strange between us. It makes me feel more alone than ever.

I shrug myself out of my clothes, put on my pyjamas and fall into bed. As I'm drifting off I wonder to myself if I will ever find somewhere I truly belong – if I will ever find someone who loves me as much as Harry loves Ginny, if I will ever have my _own _family.

My musings send me off to sleep. I dream that I am on a child's bed, cuddling said child to me as I read him a book. The child looks like me, but with blond hair and grey eyes. In my dream I am puzzled. Where have I seen those eyes before?

I finish the story and look down to find the child asleep. I remove myself from the bed gently and tuck him in. I stand and watch him sleeping for a while and then turn when I hear something behind me. The door is opening and a figure steps into the light.

It's…

I wake up suddenly, heart thumping in my chest.

What is _wrong_ with me?

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**So what did you think? Please leave a review, it's good to know what people are thinking. Love to all. xxx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys, chapter 4 is finally up for your reading pleasure. Sorry for the super long wait, have had real life things going on plus my beta's were busy for ages too. Never fear however, for I have returned. I hope you enjoy this chapter, if you do, please let me know, if you do not, please tell me why, review people! Love to all. xxx**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of this.**

* * *

**Draco**

I awake with an unbearable hang-over. It's been a week since the fiasco at the manor and last night I finally managed to get hold of Pansy and Blaise for a night on the town.

As a tonic for the nerves, a night out with Pansy and Blaise is not to be underestimated. As a tonic for the digestive system, it is less effective.

Due to the drinking games, competitions and general tom-foolery, we all ended up extremely drunk. I am not a light-weight, no matter what Zabini might insinuate to the contrary. Far from it, in fact; the amount I drank last night could kill a dragon.

Of course, Blaise and Pansy faired far worse than I. For all his bravado, Blaise was singing by the end of the night and Pansy was giggling like a school girl by ten o'clock.

Nevertheless, I do rather feel like I have been run over by the Hogwarts Express. Eurgh.

I stumble into my kitchen for a hangover potion, wondering vaguely why I keep them there and not in the cabinet next to my bed. It would be far more logical, I suppose, but far less tidy. I like things to be tidy.

I take the noxious stuff and feel better immediately. Thank Merlin for potions. Although I now need to brush my teeth twice to rid myself of the impression that a small acromantula has left a hairball on my tongue.

It's Saturday morning so I have nowhere especially important to be. I make a mental plan of what I need to do today.

1. Visit the manor.

2. Finish the article on the most recent Harpies match.

3. Have sex. Preferably with Granger.

I consider the list carefully, and remove number one. I simply can't be bothered with all that today; after last night, I need to relax.

That leaves work, or sex.

It's a tough choice, but, as a Malfoy, I have been raised to make such decisions. I remove number two from my list with, it must be admitted, some relish.

Number three it is, then.

In fact, now I think of it, have sex should have been at number one all along. I always think better when I'm relaxed – and what could be more relaxing than a mind-blowing orgasm, courtesy of one repressed bookworm?

I walk up to my desk and write the note:

_Dear Granger,_

_I would very much like a repeat performance. Apparate to the same place as last time. See you soon._

_D.M_

I attach it to my owl's leg and instruct it to deliver the letter directly to Hermione Granger, and no one else. It says something about the low quality of the recent forays into owl breeding that I even have to take such a precaution, but it wouldn't do for such a note to reach the wrong hands. The owl flies off into the night and I stare after it, already anticipating having Granger in my bed again. I can hardly wait.

I don't bother to get dressed. She would only have to take my clothes off again when she gets here, and I deplore the idea of dirtying an outfit for five minutes' wear. I pace around my flat impatiently, totally naked.

_What's taking her so long?_

I wait another 10 minutes, then I start to wonder if she's received the owl. It hasn't come back yet and I did tell it to deliver only to her. Yes, that must be it.

It's been half an hour since I wrote that letter. I wonder what's keeping her. Maybe she got tied up. Hmm, _that's _an interesting thought. Well, we'll have to try that once she gets here.

It's been forty five minutes. Now I'm wondering if she's coming at all! It can't be that she doesn't want to come, I mean, _come on_! I'm Draco Malfoy! Of _course _she wants to come. …And, yes, that double entendre was entirely intentional. I choose my words with care.

Stupid owl still hasn't come back.

It's been an hour. I'm starting to get angry now. If she didn't want to come she could have at least sent some word via my owl, and why hasn't it returned yet? Is she holding it hostage? Ungrateful, rude, bossy little know-it-…

_Aha._

My owl enters through the living room window, shaking its feathers ostentatiously. There's a neatly-rolled parchment attached to its leg. I frown briefly, but conclude that Granger must have been held up. Unlike her cohorts, she usually displayed some semblance of manners at school – the note is doubtless her apology for keeping me waiting.

I open it to see when she will be arriving.

_Dear Malfoy,_

_I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline. I don't think it would be wise for either of us to let this go any further. Also, I think it would be a good idea to keep this to ourselves, don't you?_

_Regards,_

_H.G_

What?

Wait… _What_?

I don't understand. She wants me, I know she does or there's no way she would have come back sober…

No, wait a minute, I've got it. She's falling in love with me. That must be it. She doesn't want to get hurt or some other stupid girl feeling she experiences. Now… what in the name of Merlin am I going to do about it?

Okay, let's review.

Granger is in love with me.

She wants me

She's scared of getting hurt.

She's scared that I will not reciprocate.

Well, of course I don't feel the same way about her, that's utterly ridiculous, but that doesn't mean that 'this', as she so quaintly calls it, should stop. I can deal with her being in love with me if it means I get her body in return.

Now, how can I express myself kindly enough that she will understand my point of view? I must show her that I won't hurt her, without telling her an outright lie – that I'm in love with her for example. Plausible deniability, that's my approach.

Number three might take longer than originally anticipated. Damn Granger and her annoying emotions.

I realise, belatedly, that my owl has disappeared from the shelves in front of the living room window, and that I am standing entirely naked overlooking the street. It's a good thing Malfoy's don't blush.

I get dressed and leave the house, still pondering how to win Granger over again. No one says no to Draco Malfoy.

**Hermione**

I wake up feeling nervous. Ginny is finally going to be home today after spending nearly all her time with Harry. I'm going to have to talk to her about Draco –

- Malfoy. I mean Malfoy.

I shake my head to clear it. I need a cup of tea.

I prepare my tea in my dressing gown, and take it to the table by the kitchen window. Our kitchen is a sunny yellow colour, and when the sun shines on it in the morning, it fills up with life. Breakfast in this kitchen always makes my day go wonderfully.

I hold my mug with both hands, savouring the warmth. Sipping it gingerly, I bask in the early morning sun rays. I've always felt akin to cats in that way. I would love to be able to lie in a sunny spot and sleep for a few hours, feeling the delicious warmth all over me. Too bad real life gets in the way.

I've just about finished my cup when I hear the key turn in the lock on the front door. I'm suddenly very tense again. Merlin, I wish I had a time-turner. I could just go back and have my lovely cup of tea all over again. Alone. Without the probing questions of one Ginevra Molly Weasley (soon-to-be-Potter).

…Well, of course, I couldn't actually, because that would mean sitting with myself and changing the past which you should never, ever do, but the thought was nice.

I take a mental and physical breath to try to calm myself. I've been waiting for this conversation for too long. All sorts of things have been going through my mind.

People say I think too much. Well, if I'm given enough time to stew, I really do. I've been mulling this over for a week now and it's driving me crazy. I just want to get it out of the way.

Ginny bustles towards me with a lot of shopping bags and a triumphant look on her face. She looks happy. It pleases me to see it. I'm so glad for the two of them. So very…

Oh who am I kidding? I'm jealous. I'm so jealous I'm surprised I haven't turned green. I'm not jealous about Harry, just the whole situation. I want what they have.

Too bad there's no one I like enough to do it with.

"Good morning!" Ginny says with a happy smile.

I smile at her in return and get up to make her a coffee. She settles her bags around the table and sits down to wait for me. It's a running deal we have – I make the drinks and she makes the food. She's a much better cook than me. She is definitely her mother's daughter.

I finish the coffee and make another tea for myself, then sit down opposite Ginny at the small breakfast table and pass her drink to her.

"So…" I begin, not really knowing where I'm going with this yet.

"So?" Ginny replies, a confused look on her face.

Of course, she doesn't know I've spent all week agonising over this. I take a deep breath and look her in the eye.

"Draco Malfoy." I feel brave. I'm being much calmer than I thought I would be.

"What about him?" Ginny asks. She takes a dainty sip of her hot drink.

I frown. _What about him?_ That's not quite the response I was expecting. I must admit, I was almost looking forward to confessing; Ginny is an excellent audience, and manages to drag details out of people who are usually as responsive as stone. I suspect that's what makes her such a good journalist.

Still, in spite of Ginny's apparent forgetfulness, I push on. This has been weighing on my conscience for far too long.

"We were going to talk about him," I say, hoping to jog her memory.

"We were?" She looks up at me, brow knitted in confusion.

I raise my tea to my lips, playing for time.

"When did we decide to talk about Malfoy?" Ginny asks.

Now I think Ginny is being deliberately dense. I understand; it can only be a distasteful subject to her, but I have to tell _somebody_, and Ron or Harry are definitely not on the list of 'People to Tell When You Had Amazing Sex with Your Nemesis'.

"_You_ wanted to talk about him," I say, snapping slightly. "_I _would be perfectly happy to leave the event buried in the past."

"Event?"

I sigh. "The other night – the pub – the distinct absence of me until the following morning…?" I wave my hand to encompass all the other details Ginny had no doubt forgotten.

"What ni... the pub?" Her face slowly transforms, her eyebrows shooting upwards as her eyes widen, and her jaw goes slack. It's almost comical.

…Or, rather, it _would_ be comical, if I hadn't just realised that I have made a colossal mistake.

Ginny's face is a study in incredulity. "_What_?" she shrieks, setting her coffee down and staring at me. "You mean… You _slept_ – with _Malfoy_?! _You _– slept with _Malfoy?_"

She's looking at me in disbelief which is actually starting to make me quite angry. I know I'm not precisely Playwizard centrefold material, but surely there's no need for her to be quite so surprised.

"What?" I snap at her. "You think I'm not good enough for him?"

"No," she replies calmly. "Quite the opposite actually." She's looking at me with a stern look on her face which immediately, and in a rather surreal way, reminds me of her mother.

Oh…

"Oh… sorry." I stare sheepishly at my tea for a while, then when I hope she's not looking I peek at her like a naughty child.

She's still looking.

"I'm sorry ok? I've been dreading this conversation for a week and now I find out you didn't even know in the first place? Give me a break, please, Gin?"

Ginny relaxes a bit and takes another sip of her coffee.

"Why?" she asks me.

"What?" I reply, a bit confused. "Because I don't want to argue?" I'm not sure what she's talking about.

"No!" she replies, frustrated. "Draco Malfoy, stupid!"

"Oh…" I think about it for a while. "Well, the first time it was because I was drunk and then the second time…"

"More than once?" Ginny is gaping at me.

Oops. I think I've become too used to talking to her in my head. I'd completely forgotten I hadn't actually told her about the second time.

"Um, yes," I mumble. "There was a second time…" I'm not sure I want to keep talking now. I feel like I've been given Veritaserum or something.

Perhaps I just missed her – I've got so used to having Ginny around to discuss my idiocies and foibles that the thought of her moving in with Harry leaves me cold. What will I do without her?

"_Why_?" she says again, the pitch of her voice rising to almost astronomical heights. I take a deep breath and decide to start from the beginning.

I tell her the whole story, only keeping some of the more private parts to myself. I watch her digesting the information. She sits quietly for a bit, sipping her coffee until it is finished. Then she looks at me.

"Huh…" is all she says at first. Then, "So, why are you stopping it? Sounds like you were having fun."

My jaw drops.

Ginny goes on, "It's all about the sex, right? It sounds sort of fun; like having several one night stands but with one person. Why not?"

I think my jaw just hit the floor. I can't believe she just said that. I thought she was horrified, not intrigued!

It takes me a moment to marshal my arguments; I _really_ didn't think I'd be saying the words I was expecting to hear from Ginny!

"It's not healthy," I say, firmly. "And, lest we forget, we are talking about Draco 'When-I-Rule-the-World' Malfoy – there isn't a worse person to do this with!"

Ginny considers my words for a minute.

"He's not so bad you know," she says reflectively. A strand of her hair is dangling into the remains of her coffee. "He's grown up a lot. I mean, he's still a grade O prat, but he's… better."

"How do you know?" I ask. I'm completely confused by this point. This wasn't how I had imagined this conversation going. I had planned for her to be disapproving and upset with me. Not like this. Not this open acceptance and curiosity I'm seeing from her now.

"I work with him occasionally." Ginny rescues her hair from the coffee, not seeming to notice that I am utterly blindsided by her apparent familiarity with Draco –

– with _Malfoy._

Ginny meanders on, and I listen attentively. "He comes to the Quidditch matches I report on – the organisers usually seat us together, as we're both reporters. We have conversations. We have a… _rapport_, if you will. He's not as bad as he was, trust me."

"Why haven't I heard about this connection before?" Ginny normally tells me _everything _about her day. Really, I mean it's hard to get her to _stop _talking sometimes.

"Oh, well, it was about Quidditch – and I noticed at school that you seem to shut off when we talk about it so I just stopped bothering." She shrugs.

"Oh…"

I'm shocked, I honestly hadn't noticed! I suppose the 'shutting-off' thing is true. "Well… Even so…"

I'm so mixed up by this point I'm not sure what I'm trying to say. All the planning I had done in anticipation of this conversation has been thrown out of the proverbial window.

"Yes?" says Ginny again. She is quite calm, and completely not what I expected.

Not for the first time, I am struck by how… _adult_ Ginny is. I feel like the younger person here, asking her for advice. Admittedly, it's no secret that she is far more knowledgeable about relationships than I am, but I did think myself beyond the whispering-behind-your-hand, school girl thing. Right now, I'm feeling very stupid and naive.

My tea is cold. I drink it anyway, somewhat defiantly, and try to get my thoughts into order.

"It can't continue," I say firmly. I like to think that I sound as cool and calm as Ginny, but – "What would Harry and Ron think?" – I am scrambling for something to say.

I'm completely horrified because my mind has become terrifyingly blank, which doesn't happen to me very often. Ginny has a gift in that way; she's one of the only people that can throw me off my tracks so effortlessly that I forget myself.

"Harry won't be a problem, trust me," she says now, and there's that proprietary fondness that makes me wish for a relationship like theirs. "Ron, on the other hand, is a different matter, but do you think he would react any better if you were with someone else? You know he still loves you right?"

I did know, but I had been trying to avoid that unwelcome fact.

Although he had agreed that we were better off apart, Ron seemed to be of the opinion that if he couldn't have me, no one should. Perhaps it was one of the reasons why I hadn't attempted to find someone before now. Furthermore, this might be why I have so blindly walked into this rela– _encounter_ with Malfoy. I resolve to myself to not let Ron make any more of my life decisions for me.

I sigh as I am forced to come to terms with that unpleasant reality. I am much more inclined to forget that little fact about Ron and continue to let him be a well rounded man in my perception. We have been through too much together to let something like that get in the way of our friendship.

"Yes, I know." I sigh again, wishing it weren't true and that I could continue to ignore it. "That's why I can't do it, amongst other very obvious reasons."

"Ron's going to have to let you go some time you know," Ginny says in a wise tone.

I nod in agreement but still feel reluctant to change what little we still have together. I know that it's selfish but sometimes I like the idea that Ron still loves me. It makes me feel accepted in a way that has never been real for me.

"So…" says Ginny, smirking a little now. "Again, why not?"

With that, my mind is suddenly brought back to the subject of Draco. I am about to reply when an owl soars through the open kitchen window. Ginny and I both turn to it to accept the letter. Ginny gets there first but the owl pecks at her when she tries to remove the letter.

"Ouch!" Ginny says, rubbing her wrist. "I think it's for you." Ginny sits back down looking sulky. Ginny hates secrets. She wants to know everything there is to know about everyone. It's probably what makes her such a good journalist, but it makes me smile to see her snubbed once in a while.

I gently remove the letter from the owl's leg and stroke it's head. I offer it some toast and it nibbles at it happily. The handwriting on the letter is familiar somehow but I don't immediately recognise it. Opening it, I realise who it is from straight away. I read it carefully, sigh, close my eyes and hand the letter wordlessly to Ginny who takes it at once, as if she had been waiting for it all along.

I open my eyes to watch hers widen as she reads the message. She puts it down on the table, in front of her and looks at me. "Wow!" she says. "So you really _did _sleep with him then!"

Funnily enough, this annoys me a bit. Like every girl, I have my pride.

Nevertheless, I don't reply, and turn back to the letter. "Well," I say. "I suppose I should write back."

"What are you going to say?" Ginny seems to have recovered from the shock slightly.

"What do you think? I'm going to say no," I reply decisively, and get up from the table to find a quill and some parchment.

"But _why_?" comes Ginny's query from behind me.

I turn to her in surprise. I thought I had been perfectly clear on why.

Funnily enough, I can't quite remember what those reasons were right now. "Because… Well – because…" I stammer.

What were my arguments again? They seem to be evading me temporarily.

Oh, yes, I remember. "Because it's _Draco Malfoy, _Ginny! Because Ron would go mental, because he treats me like an object, because there are about a thousand better people to do this with, and most importantly… Because _it's Draco Malfoy_!"

Ginny snorts at me.

I look at her in surprise. What about that was in any way funny?

"For someone who hates prejudice you're certainly very good at it!"

I stare at her in shock. Prejudiced? _Me_?

"What? What on earth do you mean?" I wish I wasn't offended by that, but I am. I am a muggle born witch who has had to live with prejudiced people putting me down my whole life, and now one of my best friends is calling _me _prejudiced?

"Hermione, he's changed. He's not the same boy you knew from Hogwarts. He's grown up now. You should give him a chance…"

I cut her off there, this is too much. "Excuse me, Ginny Weasley, but when did you become the resident expert on Draco Malfoy? As soon as he's finished sleeping with me, he wants me gone. I didn't get a chance to talk to him, _or_ get to know him. It looks like you've got a better chance at that than I have." I sit back down at the table with my arms crossed, huffing in annoyance.

_Give him a chance? _Hehasn't given _me _one, and I'm not the one who's got a stupid skull tattoo on her arm! He should be _begging_ for a chance to get to know me! I'm one of the 'golden trio'! I helped defeat Voldemort, I helped Harry find the horcruxes. He should be _grovelling_ before me for a chance.

I shake my head. This isn't me. This isn't who I am. There's just something about Malfoy that makes me so… _frustrated_! I don't want _anyone _begging or grovelling before me, I just want to be accepted for who I am, at face value. I don't mean to blow my own trumpet but I'm a good enough person without all the 'backing up Harry' to make me look better. For once I'd like someone to look past who my friends are and judge me for my personality, not my history. Maybe Draco would like the same thing…

Malfoy… I mean Malfoy, of course.

"But… didn't you say this was all about sex?" Ginny breaks in on my thoughts. Does she _never _quit? "I mean… of _course _he's going to treat you like an object. That's the whole point, right? Or were you looking for more? Because I can tell you now, Hermione, Draco Malfoy certainly isn't one for 'more'."

"I'm aware of that, thank you, Ginny," I say, tartly, and instantaneously feel stupid for saying something so juvenile. I hurry on. "That's my whole point! This is why I'm saying no."

Ginny looks at me, confused. I feel exasperated. I thought I had explained it clearly enough – what was it that she didn't understand?

"So… you _are _looking for something more?"

I feel as though I've missed a step going downstairs. _What_? "Yes… No! Maybe? I don't know! I'm just not looking for Draco Malfoy, that's for certain."

Ginny looks disappointed, as though she's missed Christmas. No doubt she would have enjoyed hearing all the sordid details of possible future encounters. I feel pleased that she is going to miss out on the satisfaction of hearing them.

"Right, well, as this isn't going any further, can you _please _not tell anyone? I mean _anyone _Ginny. Not even Harry!"

Ginny looks up at me and nods, understanding why she can't tell her fiancé

Although Harry would probably be okay with it, he might inadvertently let it slip to Ron, which would turn the whole damn thing into an unholy mess. Ron would undoubtedly challenge Draco to a duel or something equally stupid, and make the whole situation ten times worse. I sometimes wonder how Ron and Ginny came from the same parents.

I get up from the table again, to get the quill and parchment, leaving Ginny to her thoughts. When I return, she has finished her coffee and is looking pensive.

"Suppose…" she begins.

I eye her speculatively. "Go on."

"Suppose you _did _get the chance to get to know him? Would that change anything?"

I smile at Ginny. She can be such a romantic sometimes. "Only if he didn't prove to be the most arrogant, vain, conceited, spoiled brat in the world. _Then_, I suppose, he might have a chance."

Ginny snorts at me and I collapse into giggles.

Really, this conversation has been obscenely surreal. If you had told Ginny or I that we'd be having this discussion when we were still in Hogwarts, we'd have laughed you back to London! Mind you, if you'd have told me _last_ _month _that I'd sleep with Malfoy, I would have locked you up in St. Mungo's.

My giggles trail away and my eyes focus back onto the piece of blank parchment in front of me. I write a firm and formal reply and send it back with his owl. I'm not sure how long it will take to get back to him; not longer than half an hour in any case, but I hope it reaches him safely. This whole stupid situation needs to stop.

"Another coffee?" I ask Ginny.

"Please," she replies.

I make us some more hot drinks, then sit back at the table. After getting the Malfoy business out of the way, I feel free somehow. Ginny tells me all about her week with Harry, shows me the ring (again) and gushes about how wonderful the wedding is going to be.

"I have something to ask you actually," Ginny begins.

I can tell by her tone that this is something she has been thinking about for a while, something important. I am instantly worried. People tell me I am something of a pessimist. It doesn't really bother me – I mean, look at how I grew up! I spent half my time fighting against an extremely powerful wizard who wanted me, and the rest of my kind, dead. I lived through a war. Who can blame me for a little pessimism now and then?

"What is it, Gin?" I ask hesitantly.

"Will you be my maid of honour? I can't think of anyone better to ask, and I know Harry wants you to stand with us. He can't ask you himself of course but we just couldn't have our wedding without you by our side."

And she's thrown me again. A lump appears in my throat as I search for words – any words. My mind is once again blank. Tears well in the corners of my eyes and I feel a tightness in my chest.

"Of course I will, Ginny, I'd be honoured."

I get up and rush around the table to give her a hug. She's crying as well now. It wasn't that I didn't think Ginny would ask me, it was more that I hadn't considered it. With everything that's been going on with me, I didn't stop to think who Ginny's maid of honour would be. Now I think about it, I probably would have been quite jealous had she picked someone else.

There is a loud knock on the door. Ginny and I are startled from our hug, we look up and smile at each other.

"I'll get it. You clean up," Ginny says.

Ginny has the gift of being able to cry beautifully. I, on the other hand, always end up looking a mess. My make up runs, my eyes go red and my cheeks go blotchy. Ginny just seems to look more beautiful when she cries. I've given up trying to compete with her, it's almost like trying to compete with Fleur!

Ginny walks into the living room and approaches the door. I grab a handful of tissues from the box on the table and wipe my eyes with them, blowing my nose loudly. In the distance I hear the lock turning in the door and the creak as Ginny opens it. I hear a muffled exclamation but I can't hear who it is.

I throw my tissues in the bin and walk into the living room.

"…don't know if she wants to see you right now. What are you doing here anyway?" Ginny's voice floats down the hallway towards me.

"I need to speak with her. Where is she?"

I freeze mid-step. _That_ is Draco Malfoy's voice. How on _earth _does he know where I live? And what in Merlin's name is he doing here?

"She's here, but like I said, I don't know if she wants to see you right now. Can I give her a message?"

I hear an explosive sigh that sounds very much like personified impatience.

"Just tell her I'm waiting and I want to speak to her," Draco's voice demands.

"Only if you say the magic word!" Ginny teases.

"That's not funny! Just go get her!" Draco shouts.

My brows furrow in confusion. That's strange. I've never known Draco to let someone get to him so fast.

"Okay, Draco, calm down. Merlin!"

I hear the door close and Ginny walks into the living room.

"I'm guessing you heard who that was. I think you've upset him Hermione – maybe he cares more than you think!"

I laugh out loud at that idea. "Doubtful," I say, with a grin. Oddly, I feel much better now. "Well, I suppose I'd better go and see what his Highness wants!"

I walk to the door and open it cautiously. I am _not _looking forward to this.

Really.

* * *

**Thanks again to my beta's EmilyMax and GraceRobinson. They are fantastic and helpful at all times.**


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